


Tell Me It's Real

by ughfitz (wokemeup)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Framework, post 4x15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 04:50:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10482441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wokemeup/pseuds/ughfitz
Summary: She’s dead, he’s running a multibillion-dollar company. Though the Framework is a completely different world from their own, even a fake reality can’t stop Fitz and Simmons from being together.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s my whack at the Framework (though not what I actually think I will happen), post 4x15. 
> 
> HUGE thanks to [bigfunnywords](http://bigfunnywords.tumblr.com/) for the beta! You made things SO much better, thanks for dealing with this mess!

“So, Jemm – I mean _Annabel_ , how is the feature coming along? I remember my first report, covered Captain America and all of his history. Of course, Agent Carter was right by his side so naturally I met her as well. Quite the duo, those two, nothing will ever tear them apart. And, well, as you likely know, I met their colleague Mr. Jarvis as well, an odd fellow that one. And then there was Howard Star--whoa, easy there Jeffrey. This call isn’t about me, and you’ve already read all of my work so I’m probably boring you. Let’s get back to that feature. Any updates? Ms. Simmons, no, _blast_ , I mean, Ms. Simons. Ms. Simons? Hello?” His voice echoed in her ear as she pulled the phone away, disoriented.

Blinking her eyes, she felt as though she were coming out of a haze into a world that felt...different. The room she was in was dark, with thick, expensive-looking blinds covering the window. The bed she was in was large and plush, the sheets warm and smooth against her legs. It was lovely, but something was off.

“Ms. Simons, are you there?

“Director Mace?” she replied, not sure if she was more confused by the words he spoke, or the fact she was even talking to him in the first place.

On the other end she heard him laugh. “Oh, good one! I see you read the piece I wrote last year about being invited to star in _Fallen Shield_ on Broadway. Rumor had it that I was a shoo-in for a Tony, but I guess they didn’t want to make the others jealous.” She rolled her eyes – she could just picture him winking at her through the phone.

“Ah, yes, that one,” she replied vaguely, still confused as to why she was speaking with the Director.

“But enough about my work, let’s focus on you. How is your story going? Any new leads?”

Scrambling out of the bed, she rushed over to the work desk she spotted across the room looking for any clue as to what Mace was talking about. Noticing several crumpled sheets of paper and a stack of grainy black and white pictures, she finally found a notepad with her familiar scrawl etched across the page.

 

Meeting w/ Clarissa

Annabel Simons - 5/22, Day 5

Day 1 in new position, 1:12am

Location: R&F Technologies

 

-Met with Clarissa today. I don’t think she likes me, called me Anna twice even after I corrected her.

-She told me, and I quote, “I expect you’ll be in work appropriate clothes tomorrow, we have a strict dress code here.” She then proceeded to stare me down. Apparently my slacks, sensible heels, and dress shirt aren’t going to cut it here. Though, if you ask me, Clarissa’s outfit isn’t what I would deem work appropriate either.

-Mr. Fitz expects a piping hot caramel espresso each morning, 8am sharp. “Don’t be late” were Clarissa’s exact words. “Or else” was unspoken but implied.

-Mr. Fitz and Mr. Radcliffe are working on something called the “Night Night Gun”(which is a stupid name, not that I said anything). I am not to touch a single object on Mr. Fitz’s desk, unless I want to be fired...like the previous three assistants.    

-Mr. Radcliffe will be out of the office tomorrow through Friday and since Mr. Fitz was gone today, tomorrow I will officially meet my new boss.

-Clarissa gave me the number of her personal shopper and stylist, told me they would be at my apartment at 7:30am sharp.

-Clarissa said to be in the office by 9:30am, with a “new appearance.” She’ll get Mr. Fitz’s coffee (she said with a roll of her eyes as I roll my own).

 

Update report to Jeffrey by 5/24, 5pm

Things still to find:

-Radcliffe’s travel plans

-What is the Night Night Gun?

-What else are they making?

- **What is R &F doing? **

 

The last line of the page was bolded and a red circle had been drawn around it. Scrunching her face in confusion, she heard the blank buzzing sound on the other end of the line.

“Ah...yes,” she replied uncertainly. “Um, pardon me, Dir--Mr. Mace, I am running a bit behind and apparently don’t want to be late. Can I give you a call back tonight?”

Chuckling, Mace replied, “ _Annabel_ , I thought we’d been over this. Please, call me Jeffrey,” his tone startlingly different from the Mace she was used to hearing. “And of course, wouldn’t want my star reporter being late for her second-day duties. And Annabel,” he started, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “We will find out what R&F Technologies are making. We will get to the root of things. I have complete faith in you, Annabel. Soon you’ll be the talk of the town! The reporter that everyone wants to write like. I know I already do.”

Feeling a blush at his words, she smiled to herself. At least she knew she would have Mace and Daisy on her side. Though she was already feeling guilty knowing she would have to take Mace out of a world he so clearly enjoyed. He was safe here...happy.

“You’re too kind, Jeffrey. Talk to you later,” she replied and hung up.

Looking around the room, she sighed at how intricate all of the details were. AIDA really did do quite a lovely job.

Turning back to the desk, she rummaged around until she found something that peaked her interest. It was a printed email from Mace with the subject line “New project.”

Skimming over the words, she almost discarded it before several lines jumped out at her.

_Ms. Simmons, you’ve been with The Patriot Times for a little under a year and we’re all impressed by your work. At this time, we feel that you are ready for your next story. It’ll be a difficult one, but I complete faith in you and your work. Please call me and we can set up a meeting to discuss future projects._

Attached to the back of the paper was what appeared to be a small brochure of sorts. She opened it up and nearly dropped the item.

_**In Loving Memory of Jemma Anne Simmons** _

_Those we love don’t go away,_

_They walk beside us every day,_

_Unseen, unheard, but always near,_

_Still loved, still missed, and very dear._

In her other hand – now trembling from her shock – she held a small card that had fallen out. It was a business card, glossy and expensive looking. It said:

_Ms. Annabel Simons_

_Personal Assistant to Mr. Fitz_

_R &F Technologies _

It all clicked. In the Framework, she was dead. Well, _she_ wasn’t physically dead, but as far as everyone else was concerned, Jemma Anne Simmons was gone.

She was a reporter, apparently, and worked with Mace at somewhere (a newspaper, maybe?) called The Patriot Times. Her latest story had her undercover at R&F Technologies where she was Fitz’s, or rather Mr. Fitz’s, newest assistant.

All of it made her brain throb, a headache forming at the base of her neck.

Jemma Simmons, the _real_ Jemma Simmons was currently inside a virtual world, pretending to be a reporter pretending to be a secretary. And she, the _Framework_ Jemma, had yet to meet Fitz. And judging by the pictures and the glossy magazine with the duo on the front cover, Fitz – Framework Fitz – was busy running a multibillion-dollar corporation with Radcliffe. She had never met him in this world, and according to her own notes, Fitz and Radcliffe’s company was “shady.” The thought made her stomach twist with anxiety.

For the first time since the entire ordeal began, since she last saw Fitz, the LMD Fitz, plunge the knife into her leg, she sat down and sobbed, the flood of pent-up emotions finally releasing. It was too much, all of it. She was tired and completely done with the danger and pain SHIELD had brought into her life.

Sure, she loved the family she had gained, but the pain of losing Fitz over and over, the pain of betrayal and uncertainty and death felt like one too many strikes against the organization she once would do anything for.

Opening her eyes and staring at the ceiling, she sighed, and then began a mental list of the things she needed to do:

  1. Get to the rendezvous point and find Daisy
  2. Get Fitz
  3. Get the others
  4. Get out of here
  5. Leave SHIELD
  6. Get the breakfast nook
  7. Grow old with Fitz



She was done. She wanted Fitz, the _real_ Fitz, and she was ready to do anything to get him back.

 

* * *

 

Preparing to get her things and meet Daisy at the rendezvous point, she was in the middle of pulling on the only pair of trainers that _this_ Jemma owned when she heard a knock at the door.

Clearly not expecting anyone, she frowned and then looked at her watch. 7:30am.

She let out a frustrated sigh. Clarissa’s team was supposed to arrive at 7:30. With no way to contact Daisy and seeing no plausible excuse for getting out of this, she walked to the door and let them in.

Nearly an hour and a half later, Jemma felt even more out of body than she had previously. Her hair was done up in a pristine French twist, not a strand out of place. She wore heavy earrings that were far too glitzy for a professional environment. Her nails had been buffed and shaped, her eye makeup was heavier than she was used to, and the red lipstick she wore looked shocking to her.

And then there was the outfit. Based on her own notes, Jemma had assumed Clarissa meant brighter clothes or a skirt, maybe slightly higher heels – but definitely not the outfit she was wearing. Fidgeting with the fabric, she tried to pull up the top but felt it settle back down in place, leaving far more skin showing than she would have preferred.

Staring at her reflection as she rode the elevator to the ground floor of her apartment, Jemma realized why her appearance startled her so much. Yes, of course, there were the drastic wardrobe changes that far exceeded the limits of her comfort zone, but there was something else that left a hollow feeling in her stomach. She looked like AIDA, or at the very least had been dressed up like her.

Who was this Clarissa and what was she up against? A quick search on her phone let Jemma know that Clarissa Radcliffe was really one Mrs. Agnes Clarissa Radcliffe, wife and executive assistant to Mr. Radcliffe, CEO of R&F Technologies. Her heart stopped. Clearly this undercover job was much more dangerous than she had initially thought.

Following the directions on her phone, she quickly found herself outside of R&F Technologies, an impressively tall building that gleamed in the bright morning sunlight.

Pushing open the heavy doors, she stepped through a set of metal detectors and was surprised to be greeted by the stern, unmoving faces of two men at the front desk. Unnerved, she fidgeted as she rode the elevator up to the twentieth floor. This was what she wanted. To find Fitz, make him realize what was going on, get out and then be done with the whole mess.

Still, she hadn’t ever expected to a) be dead, b) be undercover, and least of all c) wind up as Fitz’s secretary in his shady and overly posh business. Adjusting her shirt once more to no avail, she took a deep breath as the doors eased open.

Walking in, she was faced with a woman wearing an outfit similar to hers at the front desk.

“Ms. Simons,” the woman spoke, her voice crisp and irritable. “Mr. Fitz is running late from his meeting and will be with you in a moment. Here are the papers he expects filed each day by 4:30pm promptly,” she spoke as she handed Jemma – _Annabel_ _–_ a thick stack of manilla folders. “Here are the calls for the meetings that need to be arranged, I’ll be transferring calls to your office now that you’re back.”

Turning her head back to her screen and pressing a finger to the side of her head, the woman spoke out again, “R&F Technologies, how may I help you?” Though her tone was polite, her face showed no enthusiasm or care. Realizing she had been dismissed, Jemma looked around realizing how silly she must look not knowing where her own office was.

“Straight, two rights and then a left, though I always just cut through the kitchen area to grab a snack,” a familiar voice called out. Feeling her stomach drop and her palms begin to sweat, she took a deep breath before turning around.

It was the eyes that really did her in. They were blue, so very blue – not a perfect replication of real thing of course, but blue enough to make her heart ache for his touch and for this whole mess to be over.

Cursing under her breath, she bent down to grab the papers she had dropped in her surprise before promptly standing back up, realizing her new outfit was not the best attire to be kneeling in, papers on the floor or otherwise. “Here, I’ll get those for you. My mum always told me heels made everything more difficult.” Pulling herself together, she smiled down at him. Even in the strange  Framework world, Fitz was still kind.

Possibly running a shady-as-hell company, but kind.

“Uh, we can go back to the office now and I can, uh,” he muttered, scratching his head with his free hand. Fitz’s typical nervous traits were still in effect, Jemma noted. The familiarity of it made it hard to breathe. “I can show you how things are done.”

He looked at her with hopeful eyes, and her heart shattered all over again. It didn’t matter how kind this Fitz was or how familiar he looked, _this_ Fitz was not _her_ Fitz, and he didn’t remember her. She felt tears prickling behind her eyes despite her best efforts to compose herself. With a nod of her head (her voice was useless at the moment), she moved alongside Fitz as he prattled on about different office policies.

Nearing what she assumed was his office (and hers as well), her head snapped at his next words. “I’m glad Skye suggested you for this position. She spoke very highly of you.”

“Skye...” she trailed off, realizing she didn’t know what name Daisy (if she was who Fitz was referring to) went by in this world.

“Yeah, my sister hasn’t stopped gushing about you since, I don’t know. You know how she is - when she gets excited about something, nothing will stop her. You’ve apparently been a good distraction from all the work stress and wedding planning.”

_Wedding planning?_

“With Grant’s promotion at the new Hydra plant, he’s been gone a lot and Skye really appreciates all of your help. Though she did tell me she’s irritated with me for ‘stealing her best friend’.” He winked at her. “I always thought _I_ was her best friend.”

Trying to mask the disgust and anger she felt at hearing the names ‘Skye’ and ‘Grant’ in the same sentence, she responded with a tight smile. Even more horrifying was how blasé Fitz was regarding Hydra’s presence in this world. But it made sense, she supposed. He was running a shady business, and nothing was shadier than Hydra. Her stomach turned.

“So…” Fitz began as they reached the door. “As you know, this is the office, and, uh...” his face flushed ever so slightly. “I know it’s a bit much, but it’s basically my home, so…”  He trailed off again and she realized he was waiting for her to respond and rescue him from the awkward pause.

“It’s nice,” she spoke. “Very...clean.”

“Uh, yeah,” he laughed, tugging at his ear. “Just, uh, don’t expect the same from the lab. Gets a bit chaotic in there, sometimes I get lost in my own thoughts and forget to tidy up.” She smiled, a genuine one this time. Some things never changed.

Just as he was about to speak again, the telltale beeping of a phone came from his pocket (his _suit_ pocket, she noted. He too was dressed quite differently than her Fitz, and though she couldn’t deny she liked the sharp suit he wore, she could definitely pass on the hair.) “Sorry,” he said, looking at his phone. “I’m afraid I’ll have to leave early, got called down to R &D. Those idiots couldn’t spot the difference between an NE555 and a SE555V. I’ll, uh…”  He stuttered, apparently at a loss for words.. “I’ll, uh, I’ll see you later. Maybe we...erm, maybe we could grab lunch so I can…. get to know you better?” He was nervous.

“I’d like that,” she replied with a nod. “Thank you Fi--” she stopped herself. “Thank you, Mr. Fitz.”

Chuckling, he walked towards the door before calling over his shoulder, “Fitz. I prefer Fitz!”

“Come back to me,” she whispered, eyes glued to his retreating form.

“What was that?” Fitz whirled around to face her. She saw a flash of something pass through his eyes, though she knew better than to get her hopes up.

“Nothing,” she replied. With an uncertain nod, Fitz smiled once more before exiting the room.

Sighing, she leaned against the desk and was just about to give in to the overwhelming sadness of Fitz not recognizing her when she heard a familiar voice.

“Jemma? Jemma! Are you here? Where are you, Simmons?”

Snapping her head up, she peered out the door and nearly cried. “Daisy?” she asked.

“Jemma!”

“Oh, thank God!” Jemma ushered the other woman into the room and quickly shut the door.

Wrapping her arms tightly around Daisy, Jemma let out a choked sob.

“So it sucks for you too?” Daisy asked with a bitter laugh. Jemma nodded.

They quickly got one another up to speed before Jemma felt tears welling up in her eyes.

“He doesn’t remember me, Daisy! I don’t even know if any of this will work!” She felt herself nearing the edge of panic, the fluttering sensation in her chest heightening her emotions.

Daisy turned Jemma and looked her square in the eyes. “If I have to say it a bazillion more times, I will. You and Fitz belong together and we _will_ figure this out.”

“Bazillion isn’t a real number, but I appreciate the thought...” Jemma’s voice broke. “Daisy, I...don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know if I can stand to see another Fitz, someone that isn't _my_ Fitz, not again. It’s all too much!”

“Hey, Simmons. Jemma.” Daisy’s voice was unwavering. “You’re the strongest person I know. You are amazing. Stronger than any crap that the world tries to throw your way. And I promise you, no matter what happens, I will do all that I can to help you find a way to fix this. I promise.”

Taking a deep breath and nodding back to Daisy, she smiled.

“Okay.” Reaching for one last squeeze, the two of them hugged, and Jemma felt immensely grateful she wasn’t alone.

 

* * *

 

Days passed and then turned to weeks, and nothing either Jemma or Daisy did seemed to work. Worried about the passing of time outside of the Framework, Jemma was getting increasingly frustrated.

Having found the rest of the team and realizing they _also_ didn’t recognize her and Daisy, the strain was starting to get to her and she could feel her self control unraveling.

And Fitz – Framework Fitz – made her heart hurt. Not that he wasn’t nice – that wasn’t it at all. In fact, he reminded her so much of _her_ Fitz. He was kind, smart, and grumpy; he never missed a lunch and he treated her less like a secretary and more like an equal. But still her heart ached,  because no matter how similar to was to Fitz, he _wasn’t_ her Fitz. He was comprised of code, and in spite of how real he seemed, the fact was that he simply wasn’t.

On top of that, R&F Technologies made her skin crawl. Sure, the employees were kind enough and truly believed they were making things that would better the world, but it was obvious they weren't. The weapons they made went hand in hand with the needs of Hydra, and any mention of SHIELD was only to trash them. Fitz, for his part, seemed to be unaware of how truly dangerous his weaponry could be if transferred to the wrong hands.

His star project, the Night Night Gun, was fortunately the same as its real world counterpart, and Fitz was proud that his invention could save not only his people but those that Hydra captured. _Imagine a world where we didn’t have to kill people, just stun them enough to get some information out of them!_ Of course, it was still missing her touch, but she would gladly keep it that way if it meant keeping the weaponry from causing any harm.

At the end of each work day, she returned to her empty apartment with all of its shine and newness and fell deeper and deeper into despair. Some nights, thankfully, were better than others. The times when Daisy came over and they spent the night working on finding a solution eased her nerves and quieted her mind, allowing for a night of dreamless sleep.

On the Monday of their fifth week in the Framework, she got up at 5:30am as usual, ran on the treadmill, took a shower, and prepared for work.

Looking over her notes one last time, she sighed and headed to R&F.

“Janet,” she called out with a sharp nod getting no response in return, the receptionist having never warmed up to her.

“Good morning, Fitz! How are the cosmos treating you today?” She asked as she walked into the office, expecting his usual polite reply. Every day she greeted Fitz with something from their real lives in the hope that the words would spark some memory, anything at all. Each day he responded without a glimmer of recognition, and her heart broke a little more.

When only silence greeted her, she assumed he was busy working on the Night Night Gun. But as minutes passed without so much as a glance from Fitz, warning bells began to ring in her mind.

“Fitz?” she called out. Nothing, aside from a confused look. “Fitz, are you okay?”

Seeming to snap back, he shook his head and smiled at her. “Sorry, got lost in my thoughts there for a second,” he replied. “I’m meeting with Radcliffe today, going to be in and out of the office,” he began as he started pulling on his sports coat.

“Be back later, Jemma, maybe we can grab lunch!” he said, walking past her and pecking her on the cheek. Then he breezed out of the room, as though kissing his assistant was something he did regularly.

Stunned, Jemma stood in the middle of the room, her face burning and her eyes wide. Reaching up, she touched her cheek where he had kissed her – God, he had _kissed her_ – still not entirely sure it had actually happened.

Hearing the door open, she looked up and met Fitz’s eyes filled with tears that mirrored her own. “Jemma?” he whispered. Her words had worked.

“Fitz?” He stepped into her space, and a peaceful sense of familiarity settled deep in her bones.

“Jemma, what’s…” he broke off, his words thick with emotion. “What’s going on?” Although they were the only two in the room, they were both whispering. “I...I remember things, your name, the Bus, Maveth, our...we have a room together, don’t we?”

Smiling wider than she had in weeks, she brought her hand to rest on his cheek and nodded. “And you...and you love me?” he asked, his voice full of wonder.

“Oh, Fitz,” she paused, feeling practically buoyant with happiness and relief. “More than anything. I love you so much!”

Leaning forward, their lips brushed together gently before she took the plunge and pressed against him fully.

_Finally_ , she thought. Even in a virtual world, nothing could soothe her quite like Fitz.

The next several days passed in a blur, because even though he knew, they still needed to round up the others and figure out a way to get out. With Daisy busy preparing for her “wedding” (and the subsequent drunken late night ranting sessions) and Fitz suddenly needing to meet with Radcliffe more often (his frustration evident by his grumblings), things were progressing slower than she wanted.

One night, she sat at her desk writing up the latest report for Mace, so lost in her work that she nearly missed the frantic knock on her door.

Rushing over, she looked through the peephole and saw Fitz glancing around nervously. Opening the door, she saw relief flood through him as he stepped in and locked the door behind him.

“I know how to get us out of here,” he blurted out. Ecstatic, she reached out to hug him only for him to shake his head. “No, Jemma, you don’t understand. It’s Radcliffe...he knows.” Her stomach dropped. “He knows and I think he’s trying to stop us.” Taking a few steps back, she brought her hand to her mouth in astonishment. Reaching for her phone, she searched through her recent calls and picked Daisy’s number.

_Pick up, pickuppickuppickup_ she mumbled.

“Hey, Jemma,” Daisy answered. Something about her voice sounded...off.

“Daisy,” she pushed on. “It’s Radcliffe, he knows!”

“Oh, Jemma,” she chuckled. “You’re too funny. I’ll have to share your joke with Radcliffe, Clarissa, and Grant!”

_Oh no_ , Jemma thought.

“Mhm, sounds good, Jemma. I’ll talk to you tomorrow!” Daisy hung up before Jemma could respond.

“They’re with Daisy,” Jemma told Fitz.

Unsure what to do, they stayed quiet for a moment before another knock sounded. Looking at one another with uncertainty, the two walked to the door. Jemma peeked through the peephole and almost cried.

There, on the other side of the door, were Hunter and Bobbi a platter of cookies in Hunter’s hand and a bottle of wine in Bobbi’s. Even with all of its surprises, this proved to be the most shocking change the Framework had offered.

Yanking open the door, Jemma stifled her excitement and forced her face into a neutral expression.

“Hi,” she greeted politely, certain Framework Jemma had never met the two.

“Jemma,” Hunter smirked, “is that any way to greet an old friend?” He knew her real name, not her undercover alias Annabel. That was a good sign.

“Hunter? Bobbi?” she asked.

“Hi,” Bobbi answered, her smile wide. “Finally found you two, took us forever.”

Inviting the two in, Fitz just as excited as the rest of them, Jemma pestered them on how they made it into the Framework. Bobbie explained that before going in, Daisy had managed to sneak a hidden signal out to them, they had tracked down Elena and the rest of the agents and basically, as Hunter explained, hacked their way in. There was no telling how long their macgyvered hack would last, so they needed to hurry.  

Spending the next hour devising a plan, they all prepared to get out - to get home.

Rushing to Daisy’s place, they were prepared for more of a fight, but as soon as Jemma saw Radcliffe with Clarissa - Agnes - tucked into his side and wide smiles on both of their faces, she knew there would be no big fight.

Jemma watched as Radcliffe helped Agnes into her coat and pressed a sweet kiss onto her cheek, both of their smiles blinding. Daisy, on the other hand, looked less than thrilled to have Grant’s arm around her as she ushered her guest outside.

When they were all out on the sidewalk saying their goodbyes, Radcliffe approached her and looked her straight on, his eyes sad.

“It’s okay,” he told her. Pausing to gather his thoughts, he looked up at her and smiled sadly. “I know…” he began, this emotional side of him so odd to Jemma. “I know that this is all made up, I know that none of it is real. Doesn’t make it feel any less real. Here I get to be with Agnes, I get to make whatever I want – even if it is for Hydra – and I’m happy. Science is science and Agnes feels real and she’s no longer suffering. I’ve got no regrets except for that I knowingly I made this whole thing and none of it is real.”

Sighing and scratching his face thoughtfully in the same way Fitz did, he sighed again. “It’s okay, Jemma. Do it. I have no life outside of this. I’m gone and so is Agnes. Fitz is like a son to me...he...he deserves to have his happy ending.” Pausing, he looked at her and smiled, genuine emotions shining in his eyes. “You both deserve it. Two brilliant minds don’t deserve to be stuck in a virtual world. Take it down, destroy it. But be careful, AIDA’s going to put up a fight.”

Shocked at his words, Jemma unexpectedly reached forward and wrapped  him in a hug, oblivious to the odd looks being thrown their way.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much.” Nodding back at her, Radcliffe stepped away with a heavy sigh, clapped Fitz on the shoulder, looked him in the eyes, and conveyed a message of thankfulness and sorrow. Radcliffe’s story was ending, but at least he was offering many more chapters for the rest of their little group.

 

* * *

 

From there, things worked smoothly. The team, all of them, worked together like the family they were and finally returned to their world, the one not made of code and computers, but of flesh and bone – human flaws and all.

And when Jemma finally, _finally_ , touched the real Fitz, _her_ Fitz, she felt whole, like she could finally breathe.

And when they handed in their letters of resignation in two weeks later, she felt no regret whatsoever - only peace. She had the small inkling that this is what Radcliffe must have felt like.

Looking over to Fitz as they moved the furniture around in their new apartment, she walked over to the breakfast nook and smiled as the sun hit the diamond on her ring finger scattering rainbows across the small space.

This place, her cozy nook and Fitz (her brilliant, kind, _real_ Fitz) by her side was the perfect place, she thought, to spend the rest of her life.

 

_Cause I know eventually it's all gonna happen now it's meant to be._

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from this [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C0S6pan4MUc) by Seafret! Thanks for reading, comments and kudos are appreciated! 
> 
> I'm also over on [Tumblr](http://ughfitz.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
